Covet
by Girl of Blue Fire
Summary: They had fought through loss and vengeance to build a home for both their clans. But neither could have foreseen that it was lust that would finally bring the edifice to the ground. MadaMito, HashiMito.
1. Laying the Foundations

___**AN – **__Dedicated to Renaerys and the MadaMito/HashiMito Tumblr crew!_

_Warning - rated T for adult themes/images – possibly should be M (let me know). Spoilers for chapters up to and including 622. I'm using the characterisation from the most recent chapters of the manga so if Hashi seems a bit too happy go luck for you in later chapters, that's why._

**Naruto** isn't mine blah blah….

**Covet**

_Verb – Yearn to possess or have (something)_

_Synonyms - crave – desire – hanker – lust_

'_Is the love of money, or of women, or of glory, or of any one of the other efficient causes of pleasure, the origin of slight and ordinary evils? Is it not owing to this passion that relationships are broken asunder, and change the good will, which originates in nature into an irreconcilable enmity? And are not great countries and populous kingdoms made desolate by domestic seditions, through such causes?'_

_Philo_

_..._

The house is small but warm and bright. It sits at the heart of Konoha like some damned symbol, Uchiha Madara thinks, as he stalks up the path leading to his former enemy and unacknowledged friend's home.

He wonders, despite his apathy about such things, why Hashirama doesn't make it more extravagant, given his standing in the village. This is after all, the man that can raise palaces in an instant. But assumed humility would be just like the sentimental fool.

"We're all equal in this, Madara." The man himself had laughed. " You can't expect me to waste my chakra on myself when others need it, can you?"

"You are a leader, Hashirama. At least attempt to look like one." Was Madara's terse reply.

Of course the Uchiha enclave was far more imposing. At first, Madara had insisted on using their customary tents to avoid contact with the abominable Mokuton. But when he had seen the grand buildings erected for other lesser clans he'd had to weight in on behalf of the Uchiha. Pride had to be maintained after all and besides he was sick of the almost longing looks his men cast at the newly raised houses.

_We are here a mere month and they degenerate into giddy housewives! _He thinks acidly.

He, of course, is having his proper house build of stone. The masons are taking far too long to accomplish it but he doesn't care. He's not going to be surrounded by the Senju's blasted wood for longer than is absolutely necessary.

So he might ask himself, if he dislikes the Mokuton so much, why he spends so much time in Hashirama's own home? But Uchiha Madara isn't given too much to self-reflection. It makes one weak, and prone to second-guessing. Besides if he stares too long into the mirror he sees things he'd rather forget.

No, he reasons to himself, he is here to keep the Senju leader in line. To make sure the man is holding to his promise. It has absolutely nothing to do with the slender, red haired woman who is even now ushering him into the house. In fact, he wishes she wasn't here because it is difficult to focus on any form of business when she is in the room. It is especially hard to control his features into their usual detachment when she speaks or hide the way his eyes follow her movements.

Hashirama is strangely oblivious to this, despite his usually sharp instincts. Sometimes Madara wonders whether the dolt would notice if he ravished Mito in the other room. But his younger brother is not so foolish. Madara has caught Tobirama watching him like a hawk on more than one occasion.

Fortunately the white haired idiot isn't here this time and Madara relaxes imperceptibly as he allows Hashirama's words of greeting to wash over him.

They are here to discuss sanitation and further town planning as well as the rumours of a possible attack from the Land of Stone.

"You know my will." Madara says dismissively. "Just crush them first before they can strike at us."

"We could discuss an alliance, though. They seem like they are willing to talk." Hashirama's brown eyes are intent but Madara is too busy listening to Mito humming next door.

"You are always too soft, Hashirama." He says idly after a moment.

"So Tobi keeps telling me." The Mokuton user replies with a smile. "Do you know he advocated the same action as you? Not that he would ever admit it of course."

Hashirama's grin turns wicked. If there was anyone with a greater enmity than Madara towards himself, it would be his brother for Madara.

"Still, you know we have to give diplomacy a chance." He continues gravely.

"I agree." A sonorous voice says as the object of both men's affections enters the room.

Madara purposefully glares at the table, avoiding eye contact with her. She kneels gracefully between them and arranges the dainty cups in preparation for pouring. It is not as formal as a tea ceremony of course, otherwise they would be here for hours, but every delicate motion that he watches out of the corner of his eye, reminds Madara that this women was trained to be a princess.

_A fitting wife for a ruler of men. _He thinks before he forces himself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Hours later, Mito excuses herself, pleading tiredness. Madara thinks this is strange as she has almost as much vitality as Hashirama and has certainly demonstrated as much on the battlefield. Perhaps it is their incessant wrangling that has drained her.

She inclines her head to Madara and bides him a soft goodnight. The Uchiha would have been silently contented with this if he weren't forced to witness the lingering kiss she gives Hashirama.

"Don't be up too late." She says quietly at the door and then she is gone in a rustle of silk.

Madara doesn't think of himself as a spiteful man because that would be beneath him. But he does manage to keep Hashirama arguing over petty details until well pass three in the morning.

"Fine, fine, Madara! We will do it all your way! Capture a bijuu and destroy them with that if you wish but please, please let me go to sleep!" The Senju leader cries, holding the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

_Gradual attrition is one way to break the enemy._

"Very well, Hashirama. Although I'm glad you've finally seen reason." The Uchiha intones smugly. He stubbornly refuses to acknowledge his own weariness, despite the fact he almost staggers as he rises.

"Where are you going, Madara? The front door is that way." Hashirama calls quietly after him.

"I'm going to the bathroom, Senju, not that it's any concern of yours." Madara replies in an equally low tone.

Neither man wants to wake Mito. The former Uzumaki is not a pleasant woman when she is disturbed.

Madara pads silently through the house as its owner blows out the lamps. He reaches the junction leading to both the bathroom and the bedrooms. The rooms off to his right are dark but he can make out a small candle burning through the screen to his left.

_Was she awake?_

The screen, he notices, is slightly pulled across, almost as if she has checked up on them earlier. Or perhaps it has been left that way so Hashirama does not wake her when he enters. The sound of light, repetitive breathing comes from within and Madara feels his pulse skyrocket. She is asleep.

He cannot resist the temptation. There would be a few moments before Hashirama finishes in the sitting room.

He slides the screen half back gently and sees her lying in a snowy bed, softly lit by candlelight. She has her back to him but her long, red hair is loose, just as he loves it. The locks fall across the covers in swirling patterns not unlike her own whirlpool designs. Sometimes he wonders whether this fascination too is the product of a seal that she has used to entrap him.

He lingers at the doorway, desire rising in him. But the space between him and her is like an eternity. The room seems hallowed in its white light and despite his ardour he cannot yet break its sanctity. The Uchiha warlord is a demon, cursed forever to remain on the outside looking in.

The smallest sound wakes him from his trance and in a flash the screen is back across and he is half way down the hall before he meets Hashirama's intense stare.

There is nothing friendly or tired in the Senju leader's eyes now and in spite of his confidence, Madara remembers why they all secretly fear this man.

"Did you get lost?" The other man asks coldly. Madara does not know how his rival knows but he does or at least feels threatened.

_Enjoy the feeling, Senju. You will have to get used to it._

Madara moves pass him, intending to ignore the question but Hashirama's sudden, powerful aura stops him.

A moment of silence ensues before Madara relents.

"Your house is like a maze, Senju." He replies irritably. "I'm surprised you can find your way around, even if you did build it. Now can I go before the sun rises? I thought that was what you wanted."

"It is." Is the emphatic reply and Madara wonders if he will be asked back again. The thought of entering this house is like bile to him but if it means he can spend a few treasured moments with her, he will brave it and far worse.

Point made, Hashirama leaves him without so much as a farewell. Madara exits the building in a carefully concealed rage but not before his sensitive hearing picks up the open and close of the bedroom's screen.

Hashirama can cross the boundary because he made it. This is his house and his wife and Madara hates him for it.

As the Uchiha passes like a shadow down the path, he sees the single candle light at the far end of the house go out and he knows Hashirama has his hands around a prize far greater than any tailed beast. What secrets they whisper to each other in the night will never be as beautiful to Madara as the sounds of her moans. Moans of pleasure that he will never get to hear, at least not in reality.

Back at his house, Madara strips himself of his clothes and lies naked on the bed. He ignores the loneliness that stretches out like a void in this barren place and the anger at Hashirama's dismissal that still tears at him. Activating his chakra, Madara leans back on the pillows, his wild hair spiking around him and allows an illusion to take hold of his senses. He despises himself for these actions but sometimes there is nothing sweeter than self-deception.

There he is again in the doorway, watching her slumbering form. She turns to face him and snuggles slightly against the covers, a small, contented smile playing on her beautiful face. Her eyes are still shut, perhaps captivated by some pleasant dream. But now the room is his and the futon she lies in is black and red, emblazoned with the Uchiha crest. He walks towards her slowly and his hand ghosts over her lovely features.

Mito leans into his touch and her sapphire eyes flutter open. They soften with love and her lips part slightly as he leans in to kiss her. The heat is building in him like fire but he restrains it as his hands run through her crimson hair. Savouring every minute of this is what makes the waking hours bearable. He is lost in the kiss as their tongues entwine and she pulls him into the bed on top of her.

Madara smiles even in his solitude as the genjutsu works its magic. For now it might just be an illusion but why would he settle for other women when he could have this?

…

**A/N** – _This started out as a short drabble about Madara envying Hashirama's nice home and wife and turned into a dark, angsty obsession fic. I wrote it in a day and was desperate to spread the MadaMitoHashi love so forgive me if it isn't perfect. With the Founders flashback finally underway (yey!) I'm desperate to get some of my inspiration and crack theories out there before Kishi destroys them. I'm separating it out so another one or two short chapters should follow relatively soon. I hope Madara's character doesn't seem OCC, but these are his inner thoughts and we've never seen him in love (hopefully soon though!)._

_Gentle constructive criticism is always appreciated so please leave a review and make this writer happy!_


	2. The Power of Dreams

**A/N – **_Apologies for my very long delay on this and other stories – Life and Kishi's disappointing handling of the Founders Flashback (IMO) got in the way. Also I have been playing around with this story and have decided to change it from being a short fic into something a little more substantial to flesh out some of my old theories about the Founding Era._

_With that in mind you may see more focus on other characters and relationships than just Madara's obsession with Mito but it is very much the core of the story. Another small note is I've changed the timeline a bit - the Clans have now been here for a number of months rather than a month._

_M rating is for language and continuing adult themes. It doesn't necessarily mean anything too explicit so don't be too disappointed. I think good writing wins over gratuitousness every time although whether it's good is totally up to you._

_ Thanks to all those who took the time to favourite/review the 1__st__ chapter._

_**Naruto** still doesn't belong to me..._

**Chapter 2 - The Power of Dreams**

_'Following the roads_

_Of dream to you, my feet_

_Never rest. But one glimpse of you_

_In reality would be_

_Worth all these many nights of love.'_

Ono No Komachi

_'All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.'_

_T. E. Lawrence_

Delicate fingers trace over his shoulder and down his back, sending warm shivers through him. Madara stirs slightly and feels lips press against the column of his throat. They move upward to nuzzle at his ear and he growls softly in appreciation. Faint perfume fills his nostrils as he breathes in the scent of her and their lovemaking. Madara smiles in his sleep and turns to capture the object of his dreams but she melts away from him.

"Mito." He demands huskily. "Come here." _Why is she running from me?_

But before he can recapture his beauty, the sunlight hits his sensitive eyes like senbon and Madara stirs fitfully. It couldn't be more than a few hours past dawn and he had been up for most of the night. Grinding his teeth, the Uchiha screws his eyes shut and tries to block out the insistent chirping of birds and the dull hiss of cicadas. The morning chorus continues unabated and after a few minutes he realizes it's futile.

_Well, I can think of other things to do…_Madara smirks as he reaches instinctively for Mito.

His hand stretches out, seeking soft skin, only to be met with cold, bare sheets. Coal black eyes flare open and he remembers.

Mito - Hashirama's wife…

Madara lets out a long breath as he leans back, alone in his bed.

_Pathetic._ He thinks, disgust covering the yawning hole of isolation. _I can't believe I sank to that again. _

Raking a hand through his spiked hair, he rises angrily and stalks towards the bathroom. Sleep was beyond him now and he has better things to do than waste time in lurid fantasies. He splashes cold water on his face, and glares into the mirror.

_You are Uchiha Madara – a legend._ He thinks, Sharingan boring into Sharingan. _Uchiha Madara does not pine after women; he takes them and throws them away after he's done._

His natural self-assurance should have kicked in by now but all he can feel is a lingering silence that nags at him.

_If I am so powerful, why isn't she mine? _It seems to ask.

"The woman means nothing." He says aloud to himself._ I only want her because she's the only one worth having in this wretched place._

_And she's Hashirama's…_The darker side of him whispers.

Yes, he couldn't deny the pleasure he would feel at taking something precious away from the Senju leader. The triumph when Mito succumbed to his seduction, as he knew she would if he ever determined to take her. For a moment he allows himself to imagine Hashirama's reaction to being supplanted – the generous laugh dying in the throat, the desolate look in those trusting, brown eyes…

_It might break him_. Madara realizes with an odd, twisting sensation in his throat.

_Why am I still thinking about this nonsense? _He almost spits as he turns away._ This is why I detest rumination._

The scent of aromatic soap fills the air he busies himself with washing. The Uchiha scrubs vigorously, skin turning red as if he could literally wash away the persistent mood. Drying himself harshly with a towel, he runs a comb through his tangled mane, enjoying the twinges of pain as he works through the knots. It is a minor punishment for his lack of discipline. His body clearly still aroused by the night's activities, protests at his repressive attitude.

_Fine…perhaps I do just need a woman_._ Or several… _

He tries to smirk at the thought but his mind turns restlessly back to the dream despite his best efforts. Lashes flutter closed involuntarily as he feels the press of loving hands again. For some reason the sensation feels more profound than any physical satisfaction. How long has it been since he'd felt that? Like he actually cared about a person beyond their usefulness to his ambition? Not since…

_A warrior has no need for affection, Madara. In this world it will only be used against you. Put your feelings into gaining status for the Clan instead. That is the greatest form of love. _His father's voice echoes in his head as Madara represses the tide of emotion that threaten to bubble up.

_I don't need reminding of that_. He thinks viciously as he strides back in to the bedroom and grabs his clothes. _Power is the only thing that matters in this world, no matter what that idiot Hashirama believes…_

Face still thunderous, the raven-haired man drags an Uchiha branded mantle over his head and straps on his blood red armor. The snap of each buckle feels like another layer of pride fixing onto him. He welcomes it like a mother's embrace, the weight and press of the metal comfortingly familiar.

_This is the only reality._ Madara thinks as the Sharingan glows from under shadowed lashes. _With this, I will bring honor to my family's name. Anything else is a distraction._

Pulling on his usual fireproof gloves he flexes his hands and smiles. He might have finally given in to this foolish childhood dream but he would be damned if he let his people fall because of the Senju's softness. He has to be harder than granite if he is to protect them from horrors of this world. Let Hashirama have his pretty wife; Madara's sight is set on greater things.

* * *

The air is filled with the controlled shouts of men at arms as they practice their katas in row upon row of deadly, rhythmic precision. It should fill Madara with a surge of pride watching his soldiers flow through the moves effortlessly, but instead he glowers at them. They are good but that goes without saying - they are Uchiha. With that in mind this display is average. And with the enforced Alliance always at the back of his brain, average is more unacceptable than usual.

_Those bastard Senju could do better with their hands tied behind their backs._

"Put more effort into it!" He shouts.

His ruby eyes pick out the defectors. Hiruko, Akito and more behind. They avoid his gaze, focusing on the taijutsu, blending in as if they were still part of the Clan. His hands curl into fists before he consciously relaxes them. By rights they should be dead by his hand, but Hashirama had insisted they be spared as part of the peace treaty.

It disgusts him to have them here mixing with their betters, but it keeps the traitors under his eye.

"Change!" He bellows from his vantage point above the regiment. "Form ranks five ninja across. I want to see Grand Fireballs the size of a house. When the last rank has finished, repeat the jutsu until I tell you otherwise."

They hurry to obey his commands but his eagle eyes notice the lurking resentment, however well hidden. Hiruko's eyes flicker to Takashi - a tall, silent man who barely acknowledges the new order.

_So that's how it is…_Madara thinks grimly. _The worms seek shelter under the larger vermin._

Takashi hadn't deflected but he and his little clique had done everything they could to undermine Madara's leadership under the veil of obedience. Memories of the whispers, accusations and his brother's blindfolded, dead face begin to rise again. Forcing himself to focus on his promise to Izuna, the past fades and the feelings become part of the ever-present miasma within him.

_It will be your turn to dance soon, Takashi…and then you will know who is the real Lord of the Uchiha._

The breeze has become ripe with the smell of smoke and the latent heat of fire chakra. More dark, mantled figures replace the first row and barrage of flames continues. A few glance up briefly as if to gauge the reaction of their taciturn leader, before joining their fellows at the back of the group.

_Did you expect me to be impressed?_ Madara thinks acidly. _They were producing this in my father's day; surely there must be an improvement by now?_

There had been, he remembers it. He also remembers endless lines of coffins – most of his best fighters. All that remain are these dregs.

_Is this fulfilling your promise, brother?_ _Making sure our Clan survive even in this crippled state? _He shakes his head_. This can't be what you wanted._

"Pathetic!" He shouts and they stop to look at him, some impassive, others almost sullen. "Don't stop, you fools! And put your hearts into it! Is this how you would show pride in your heritage?"

His pupil Setsuna steps forward and Madara notes with approval that his blaze is larger than the rest. Following his example, his peers increase their chakra flow to match his.

_The boy is young, but he has a bright future._

Madara picks out more promising youths interspersed with the mediocre crowd. At least they were assured of the chance to hone their skills properly unlike the gory lottery of his childhood.

_Hashirama was right about that at least…_

The clack of sandals announces the approach of a visitor. Madara feels his brief, positive mood evaporate. He doesn't need to sense the thrum of overwhelming life force to know who it is.

_Name the demon and he appears…_ Madara thinks and recalling the slight of the previous evening, decides to ignore his so-called 'friend'.

"An impressive sight." The Senju's voice observes from behind him.

The words aren't loud but they carry never the less as Hashirama no doubt intends and Madara's temper ignites furiously on seeing the nearest of his men's backs straighten and their chins raise with the compliment as they wait their turn to prove themselves.

"Double speed and no slacking." He barks down at them.

_Damn them for reacting to a worthless Senju's praise! I will have the first to fail the jutsu whipped as an example_.

The raven-haired man turns and fixes his rival with hard red eyes.

"I'll thank you for keeping your observations of my Clan to yourself." Madara snaps as he moves to pass the other man. "They need no encouragement from you."

_Perhaps if I move fast enough I can avoid today's dose of moral platitudes …_

Hashirama is too fast for him. "Forgive me." The taller man replies, his lips twisting in a self-depreciating smile. "Old habits die hard and I'll never lose my respect for the damage that jutsu can do." He says indicating the Grand Fireballs still ripping through the area below them.

Madara snorts and crushes the minuscule flash of _something _he feels at Hashirama's approval. If the man thinks flattery is all it takes to apologize then he is woefully mistaken. Madara neither wants nor needs it. Besides, he is clearly exaggerating – the Uchiha are nowhere near their best and they both know it.

"Is there a reason for your visit, other than to pander to my ego?" Madara bites, repressing the concern over his Clan.

It's Hashirama's turn to snort this time and he is on the edge of poking fun at said ego but catching Madara's mirthless look he wisely decides against it.

"Should I hide in a corner all depressed like the old days?" He jokes, trying to work the chinks in the Uchiha's thorny armor.

"It might get you out of my way." Madara says flatly, although with slightly less venom than he originally intends.

Has Hashirama really forgotten everything that happened last night? That would be just like the simpering dolt, so fixated on their childhood friendship. He might not be so forgiving if he knew Madara had spent the rest of the twilight hours seducing the illusion of Mito.

The Uchiha shifts slightly, remembering the shame he felt upon waking. In the bright light of day and under Hashirama's now friendly eyes, the previous night's actions feel even more repugnant. But the nauseous feeling in his stomach is certainly down to lack of breakfast rather than a more insidious uprising of guilt.

_It's his own fault for being so arrogant with me. _

Hashirama holds his gaze, his look becoming more speculative as he assesses his friend's mood. Madara refuses to give in to the slightly anxious notion that the taller man can read his thoughts. Senju leader's eyes narrow as he comes to a conclusion but before Madara can angrily refute any nonsense, Hashirama's mouth curves into a smile, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"I apologize for interrupting but there's a counsel meeting being called for the afternoon - "

"To discuss what?" Madara interrupts. "The number of counsel meetings we need to have before we make an actual decision about something?

Hashirama grins despite himself. "I know, I feel frustrated too, but it's the way of things when powerful people with different opinions come together."

Madara snorts again. "Politics bores me." He says, waving a dismissive hand. "You play Father today and chastise them. My Clan needs drilling."

"You complain to me when you feel left out of the decision-making process and yet you don't want to take the time to attend the meeting?" Hashirama's voice is even but Madara doesn't miss the edge of annoyance.

"Please Hashirama, we all know where the real decisions are being made. Why do you think I came over last night?"

_It certainly wasn't for your company._

"That's not true, the other clans are important as well you know. And you came over because you enjoy irritating me in a myriad of ways, not least by keeping me up at all hours!"

"Did the God of Shinobi lose his precious sleep? What happened to the Senju's legendary vitality?"

"Don't call me that ridiculous title! You know it sets my teeth on edge."

_Mine too_, Madara thinks dryly.

"More importantly," Hashirama continues with the smile back on his face. "If the counsel meeting isn't until later on, that gives us time for a spar if you are up for it? After your drills of course."

Madara's eyes narrow as he evaluates the prospect. The training of his troops is a pressing matter and being in Hashirama's presence is grating. However his own advancement shouldn't be neglected. Uchiha led by example and defeating Hashirama is the next step, not only in reclaiming his standing in the eyes of the Clan but in the Village as well.

_And nothing would satisfy me more than beating him to a pulp._

His lips curl into a half smirk before he can stop himself. "I think I could spare the time." Madara replies offhandedly.

Hashirama's grin widens and he smacks his friend on the shoulder.

"Fool." Madara bristles, but the other man just laughs at him. _How many times do I have to tell him to stop doing that!_

"Continue your training!" Madara addresses his men. "Kenshin, supervise them." His lieutenant breaks from the ranks with a bow and takes up position.

"We don't have to go now." Hashirama says. "You've can't have been training them for long."

"Nervous are we, Senju?" Madara needles him as he spares one last glance at his soldiers. "They've been training for four hours already."

Hashirama glances at the sun and back to Madara and his men with surprised unease. Madara dismisses it. Lesser shinobi cave under such pressure but the Uchiha should thrive on it. However, his Sharingan tells him that some of the men are down to their reserves under the extreme regime.

_They need to break through their own personal limitations if they ever wish to reclaim our rightful place in this Alliance. But do they have the will to?_

He looks into every scarlet eye unblinkingly, searching the depths of their souls, for pride this time, not weaknesses. Madara's long hair catches on the wind and with the sun illuminating him from behind, at that moment he truly looks like a God. Even Takashi cannot look away. Finally he speaks and his passionate tone carries across the large training ground.

"You are the Uchiha - the ones that control the flames in this Land of Fire!" He says, voice alive with the depth of his conviction. "Honor the name!"

"Hai!" They shout and salute him as one, backs unbending in spite of their exhaustion. Feeling slightly more generous he acknowledges it with a short nod before striding off side by side with Hashirama.

_I too, have to surpass my limitations..._ Madara thinks as he cracks his gloved knuckles. But watching his adversary out of the corner of his eye, Madara can't resist the familiar thrill at the thought of testing himself against the Senju leader.

_They may call you the God of Shinobi…but even Gods can fall._

The past is done, it's the future that matters now and as a consummate planner, he can deal with the future. The air is warming with the summer heat and he can smell the fresh scents of grass intermingling with cooking from the nearby settlement.

Facing his old foe across a wide field, Madara notices the anger of the last few hours falling slowly away from him. They smile at each other with the same challenge they have for years, but seeing the new buildings behind his rival and the tall mountain beyond, Madara feels a difference.

_You haven't defeated me yet, Senju and there's everything still to play for._

A moment of razor wire tension and they are gone, racing towards each other. There's a steely hiss of drawn weapons and then a clash of metal on metal. Fire blooms out of nothingness, a hundred times brighter than in the Uchiha training ground. In its light, Madara sees all that he desires - leadership of this place, his face on that mountain. As the flames darken to red he remembers hair a similar shade, flowing through his fingers in the depths of night.

_An impossible dream_, he chides himself as Hashirama breaks through the aftermath of the fireball and lashes at him with Mokuton branches.

_But wasn't this village too, an impossible dream?_ That nebulous part of him replies as he flips back, cutting the skyline in a graceful arc. His Sharingan gleam darkly as the village and Hashirama reflect in them.

Yes, it's true. Great things could be achieved through the power of dreams…

* * *

**Author's Endnote – **_Constructive feedback/reviews are always welcomed. I really hope you enjoyed this latest chapter - it feels great to finally post something on here again! That being said, unfortunately due to my University course starting soon I'm not sure when the next update will be. Check my profile or Deviant Art for news._

_And if you enjoy fanart please check out my Deviant Art account (link is on my profile page.) At the moment it's all MadaMito (and why not?) but I'm hoping to upload some pics of HashiMito and the Founders as a group in the future._


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